False Accusations Of Rape

By an ex police-officer ...

In October of 1992, I embarked upon what was to be one of the most profound experiences of my life – a career in law enforcement. That career would span the next ten years, and in that time I would serve in a cornucopia of positions in the system. Six of those years were spent “on the street,” in direct and daily contact with the public as a police officer. Four of those years were spent in a major urban jail system as a supervisor, in direct and daily contact with what had already been identified by others like me as the “criminal element.”

 I found that myths and lies about “Violence Against Women,” with respect to both rape and domestic violence, were both de rigeur, and vehemently defended

In that decade, I found that myths and lies about “Violence Against Women,” with respect to both rape and domestic violence, were both de rigeur, and vehemently defended by many who knew good and well they were defending myths and lies, and would privately admit as much. Their justification for this dishonesty was simple and pragmatic - police work is after all, a political job. Anyone who seeks advancement to positions that involve more face time with cute reporters and television cameras than with burglary reports and false alarm calls will keep their ears open for the latest tune being called by the politicians.

“Violence Against Women” has been a buzzword for at least a generation now, and any police officer of any rank that exposes a reality not in concert with the absurd statistics and draconian measures put forth to combat this “epidemic of violence” is unlikely to advance. Those for whom advancement was not a concern overwhelmingly adopted the attitude of “What’re ya gonna do? I don’t make the laws.” Yes, my experiences are anecdotal, like everybody else’s. However, my experiences are not unique.

In ten years of keeping company with other police officers, I found few who would privately disagree, or profess experiences different from my own. That a report of a rape is in no way presumptive evidence that a rape has actually occurred is common knowledge among police officers.

 My experiences are no more or less “anecdotal” than a story told by a self-proclaimed rape survivor.

 Finally, I regard the use of “anecdotal evidence” as a dismissive epithet to be an admission by the user that I must be a person of unique and truly remarkable experiences that mine would so contradict the prevailing wisdom.

I do not believe that I am, or ever was anything more than an average guy and an average police officer, doing average police work in an average town. Therefore, it does not logically follow that my experiences there would be anything more than average. If they are more than that, it is all the more reason they should be carefully considered before being dismissed.

It is practically an impossibility for me to even attempt an estimate of rape complaints I have responded to in a ten year career

It is practically an impossibility for me to even attempt an estimate of rape complaints I have responded to in a ten year career, which ultimately spanned two separate police departments. I can say that, contrary to what one might be lead to believe by hysterical statistics put forth by special interests, such complaints are not everyday occurrences. But they happen often enough to be a routine feature of the landscape. If an officer asks a friend what he is working on and the friend responds, “a rape,” it is not really remarkable. The officer who asked the question in the first place will then invariably ask, “a good one?” In this context, “good” means “one in which a rape may actually have occurred, in which case tell me how I can assist you.” If the answer is “yes,” that is remarkable.

I can say with certainty that the number of rape complaints to which I have responded that were “good ones” – One. I usually say two, in case the mists of time have caused one to be forgotten. But, put to it, I cannot remember more than one. That one I’ll never forget, which militates against the possibility of one having been forgotten. But, by definition, it was atypical. The point of this article is better illustrated with a typical example.

Late one afternoon I was radio assigned to investigate a report of rape at a local high school. When I arrived in the principal’s office I made contact with a seventeen year old girl. Her parents were unavailable for the interview, for reasons I confess I have forgotten. In the presence of the principal and school counselor, she related the following – on that day during her lunch period, a male friend invited her to accompany him for a walk into the secluded wood-line behind the school. There he raped her vaginally, using a condom. The attacker was a fellow student, well known to her. She made the decision to report the rape after enduring an afternoon of taunting by her friends in the class to the effect that she was a “slut.” When I asked how her friends had known the rape took place, she “guessed” that “he had told them.”

I observed two things that I felt pertinent in that first interview – 1. She appeared to be somewhat slow (I would not say “retarded,” just maybe a half step behind everyone else), and 2. She was very upset at what the other girls had said, and as for the attacker, well, she wasn’t the slightest bit upset about the rape – only that he had told everybody about it and now they wouldn’t leave her alone.

I  asked about the condom – where had it come from, and what happened to it after the attack?

I asked about the condom – where had it come from, and what happened to it after the attack? Well, she had brought it to school. Did she commonly carry condoms to school? No, she just brought it today. Any special reason she had just brought it today? No reason. Just a co-inky dink. Where was it now? “He threw it in the bushes.”

I took a break to consult with the school counselor, principal and nurse. As I suspected, she was a “special needs child,” in Special Ed for a low I.Q. The attacker was a boy in the school, not in Special Ed. She was very proud of her recent association with him, boasting often of it to her friends. She had been overheard in class that day (by her teacher) bragging to her classmates that she had had sex with the boy in the bushes on the lunch break and he was now her “boyfriend.” When her classmates reacted with shock, she asserted that it was “Okay, they had used a condom.”

They then proceeded to tease her without mercy (and with the mindless cruelty characteristic of adolescents) until she was reduced to tears. Other girls in the class had confirmed this version of events. After the class session, she presented herself in the principal’s office complaining of rape. They had notified police for obvious reasons. In the room with all of us was a Great, Big, Fat Elephant. All of us saw it. All of us saw each other seeing it. And all of us saw each other pretending they didn’t see it.

I transported her to the local hospital where a Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner (SANE Nurse) conducted the necessary exam. I then filed a report of rape and recovered the condom from the area clearly identified by her as the scene of the attack. The report landed on a detective’s desk, whose follow-up investigation reduced everything my initial investigation revealed to written, sworn statements.

During questioning by detectives (an experience that is likely on par with “Surviving An Artillery Barrage” on the list of “Unforgettable Things You Never Want To Go Through”), the suspect stated he had been talking to the girl for a couple of weeks, that they had planned to have sex that day, that she had brought the condom for the occasion, that he had told no one about it and hadn’t planned to until being approached by police and told he was being investigated for rape.

 this young man could have easily landed behind bars.

After the investigation concluded (if memory serves, probably about two weeks), no charges were brought for lack of evidence. It should be obvious to any fair-minded reader how easily it could have gone the other way. Had I (or any other official involved in the process) been motivated by any emotion, any bias, any motive whatsoever save a commitment to the truth, this young man could have easily landed behind bars.

Certainly, rewards were available for doing so – any of us might have decided to champion the cause of this “poor, raped, special needs child,” dropped a dime to the local media and would have been immune to any criticism for doing so, as no one would have spoken out in this young man’s defense who was not ready to be professionally ruined as a result. He was lucky.

I have lived and moved among policeman and government officials for all of my adult life. You may draw your own conclusions as to what percentage of them can be trusted to do the right thing because it is the right thing to do, eschewing career rewards for doing the wrong thing. You draw your conclusions – experience has led me to mine.

This rather pathetic young woman lied, not out of malice, but for the simple reason that motivates so much human behavior – she wanted to be liked and accepted by her peers. She had in her hands a weapon to secure attention beyond her wildest dreams, quite beyond her capacity to understand, and well beyond the capacity of any of us to fully control.

Many people might view this young lady's situation as “tragic.” No, it isn’t. It’s pathetic.

Many people might view this young lady's situation as “tragic.” No, it isn’t. It’s pathetic. If someone’s life had been ruined, that would have been tragic. How many feminists would have regarded his sacrifice an acceptable loss? How many more would have regarded it as a victory? If you are one who would consider the life of this young man to be no more than collateral damage in your “gender war,” perhaps you might consider this – the one call I had that wasn’t.

I will never forget her face, what she had gone through after the rape to secure help from police. It occurred in the very rural area she lived in – her youth, lack of education and naiveté had plunged her into a jurisdictional nightmare of trying to find the agency responsible for that area.

How tiny she looked next to me, how she clung to the wad of crumpled up clothes that she was wearing when she was attacked. How quickly she handed them to me when I offered to take them. How determined she was to negotiate, without complaint, whatever obstacles stood in the way of her constitutional right to Petition the Government for Redress of Grievances. How great that grievance was.

This dirt poor redneck girl didn’t know anything about jurisdiction, and I guarantee you she couldn’t have spelled it. But she was smart enough to know that what had happened to her was terrible, was wrong – was against the law - and she expected, with the innocence of a child, that the law would stand up for her . I assure you, she had no one else in her life that would. Ultimately, that belief brought her face to face with me.

I don’t know what ultimately happened to her case. But if you went looking for it, it likely wound up about two-thirds of the way down a big stack of cases just like the one at the high school.

Also see, ...

Rape Baloney - Part Two